


New

by rm (arem)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arem/pseuds/rm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very nearly PWP; Ianto has a thing for what's new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Invisible_lift.

In this, Ianto thinks he prefers to watch, not because he's a voyeur but because he is cataloging something, capturing something, and it's something he doesn't quite get to have anymore.

It's not that he's used to Jack, not really. God, he's certainly not _bored_ by him, but he's inured enough on a certain level - to the pheromones, the charisma, even the mere fact that Jack is a man - that he can actually make words now in the moments where Jack presses into his space, lips hovering just short of a kiss.

Andy, on the other hand, hasn't learned the trick of that yet, and from the looks of things, probably won't for a while. Ianto has to shake his head at that, thinking like this is normal, thinking like this has happened before (it hasn't) and surely will again (it probably won't, not the same anyway).

Ianto frowns, watching, and decides he can observe as well from up close as he can from far away. He slides up behind Andy, not to join in, not really, but to make sure the other man doesn't fall down, because Jack is being Jack and Andy, before he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, had moaned like he was drugged.

He laughs at the thought and smiles as Andy sags against him, Jack catching his eye over the other man's shoulder. Nothing quite like something new, and Ianto can almost taste the sensation of it just from looking at Andy's face. It's in how he sighs, how his lips part and tremble, and it doesn't matter that Ianto had never given him a second thought before all this, right now he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Jack is clearly amused.

Ianto smirks. Always critical that.

"Ianto's joining us, that okay?" Jack murmurs at Andy, in the same voice he had used to seduce him back in the pub. Ianto had thought it was ridiculous then; Ianto had thought it wouldn't work.

Andy makes a displeased noise in response to Jack, but tips his head farther back onto Ianto's shoulder. No objections then, just annoyed that Jack's trying to make him speak.

"Shhhhhh, I know," Ianto breathes in his ear in a voice learned from Jack.

But of course, Ianto doesn't really know what could possibly be going through Andy's mind at all.

Sure, the way Jack can be overwhelming had been a surprise to him too - he was _Jack_, after all - but Ianto had fantasized about lot of men, so it's not like the premise of the thing had been inherently absurd. Well, not for those reasons anyway.

But Andy? Well, Ianto isn't even sure the man has ever fantasized about anyone other than Gwen, not that he's going to say that out loud.

He takes a moment to marvel at the absurdity of it.

"Jack, how do you do these things?" Ianto laughs softly.

"Flattery," Jack says, rubbing his hand over the side of Andy's face.

Ianto watches as he turns his head to kiss Jack's palm, but really just manages to drag his lips across it instead.

"Eager," Jack says and Andy makes a frustrated noise.

"Just kiss him," Ianto says. It's meant for Jack, but the other man responds, righting himself in nearly drunken slow motion and then leaning into it.

Somehow, Jack manages to be surprised. But he only looks startled for a moment, and he winks at Ianto before giving into the kiss.

Ianto nips at the back of Andy's neck. It's there, and now that he's pressed against all this warmth and enthusiasm and Jack's attempts at conspiring, it seems absurd to back way, so he slides his hands around Andy's waist and up under his t-shirt.

Andy's hairier than Ianto would have thought, and he finds himself inexplicably pleased. It's different from Jack, anyway. _Something new_, Ianto thinks to himself with a chuckle.

He rubs his fingers across Andy's nipples, is rewarded with a gasp, with Andy going rigid, his mouth hanging open and _panting_, just millimeter's from Jack's.

"I think he likes that," Jack says conversationally. It's ridiculous.

"I think I want to keep him like this _forever_," Ianto says, but he has no idea where the thought has come from, or why it seemed a good idea to say aloud.

Jack throws his head back and laughs.

Andy whimpers.

"Jack," Ianto admonishes, but doesn't continue the sentence, doesn't continue the thought: _Stay close, he needs you to stay close, trust me, I know._

"Let's get him undressed," Jack says.

Ianto thinks it's close enough and grabs for the hem of Andy's t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

The man shudders and turns in the circle of Ianto's arms. Suddenly they are staring at each other, both slightly shocked. Ianto wonders if it's being eye to eye with the _boyfriend_ that's the problem or if the absurdity of the larger situation has just finally kicked in.

It had all been a joke, after all, at the pub, until the three of them were leaving, if not together, then at least simultaneously. But then Jack had grabbed Andy and kissed him before asking if he was coming home with them in that way that wasn't really a question.

"Don't be nervous," Ianto breathes, but he could be talking to himself. Regardless, he feels stupid for having said it.

"I'm not some fuck-scared virgin," Andy says. Ianto notes it's the first complete sentence they've had from him since they'd piled into the SUV. Ianto thinks whatever ferocity Andy's mustered through his lust almost manages to erode the ludicrous way he juts out his chin and nearly pouts.

"Didn't say you were," Ianto says, careful to keep the desire to soothe out of his voice, lest it press the issue in the worst possible of ways. "But you can't tell me you don't feel like you're in over your head. Just a little."

Andy closes his eyes, tips his head slightly to the side and smiles. To himself. "True that. I am, aren't I?"

"Yes." That's Jack. Self-assured, amused, and maybe a little annoyed that a moment in this thing has passed that isn't all about him. Ianto sees it in the way he reaches roughly for the snap on Andy's jeans and in the way he tugs them down. The seduction's gone, and Ianto figures it won't come back until they're all horizontal.

Andy slides into Ianto's bed like it's some sort of refuge, and Ianto has to stifle a hysterical laugh. He wonders whether the other man is going to try to hide under his duvet next.

Apparently not, he realizes, since Jack somehow manages to drag at least half the bedding onto the floor when he climbs onto the mattress himself. It's the sort of thing Ianto would spend more time in a slightly irritated huff about if he weren't sure that his nudity isn't somehow going to make that particular display _less_ absurd.

He shrugs. It's another battle for another day. Right now, watching Jack jerk Andy off is infinitely more interesting.

"Jack. Don't," Ianto says as he joins them. Okay, so maybe he hasn't actually mastered the art of complete sentences around Jack, but it's enough for the other man to catch his meaning.

"Don't worry," Jack says, and Andy makes an interrogative noise.

"You don't get to come yet," Jack explains. "I'm guessing you knew that; Ianto's guessing you, and, apparently I, didn't."

"Fuck," Andy says.

Jack nods in a way that somehow manages to be both smug and apologetic all at once. "See, we figure, once you come, you'll actually think about all this and need a bit of talking down. So better that we all enjoy ourselves thoroughly first, yeah?"

Andy looks from Jack to Ianto and then to Jack's hand lazily working his prick; there's a moment where he hesitates, as if a man doing essentially nothing but laying there and having his reality rearranged has a particularly large number of options in front of him.

Ianto's startled that when Andy makes a decision it's, for whatever reason, to sit up and kiss _him_.

It's a sharp kiss. Messy. Maybe even brutal. He bites at his lower lip, and Ianto can't help but wonder if this is the best Andy can do to put up some sort of fight.

"What was that for?" Ianto asks, curious and amused when Andy finally flops back on the bed. Jack's hand, still wrapped around him, has all but stilled.

"Wanted to see if it was him or blokes," Andy says.

Ianto shrugs. It's fair enough. "And?"

"You're too much him for me to tell."

Ianto looks down, aroused and ashamed and wonders if the sensations are related. He knows he's flushing. He knows he's flattered. He knows that suddenly he somehow feels heartbroken.

He feels Jack kiss the top of his head very gently. Then, to Andy, "Don't worry about it right now, okay? Worry about it feeling good."

"I don't think I have to worry about that," Andy says, breathless, eyes fluttering shut like he's choosing, _just choosing_, to be drunk with it again. Ianto recalls that he was supposed to have been cataloging this, remembering, but somehow he's gotten surprised. Somehow, he's failed.

Distance, it never works with Jack.

 

They don't fuck. Not how Ianto thinks of it anyway, and he knows that that's ignorant or uptight or old-fashioned or something about it, but he's still learning in this life he wasn't meant to lead, wasn't even meant to be _living_. Hell, it's not like they don't do a great deal of everything else.

They discover that Andy is very, very oral, although Ianto suspects it's to hide his face from them as much as it is to be drunk on Jack's scent or drunk on Jack's praise.

But whatever the reason, the man doesn't seem think twice about doing as he's told, and Ianto can't help but admire it, the way Jack leads him down and under and through, until they are all lying sloppy and splattered and sore at an unreasonable angle across Ianto's bed.

Andy's in the middle, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Ianto can practically feel the tension in him starting to wind up again, even as he and Jack are on their sides, getting that they shouldn't crowd the man, but feeling annoyed that this particular arrangement has somehow managed to leave them without touch.

Jack stretches theatrically and sits up.

"Always hungry after a good lay," Jack says, and Ianto thinks it sounds completely forced. "C'mon, Andy, kitchen," he says, getting up and jerking his head towards the rest of the flat.

"Are you kicking me out of bed?" Andy asks. He doesn't even have the decency to sound surprised, although Ianto's pleased for the hint of dismay.

Ianto reaches out to touch him and lays an awkward hand on his shoulder.

"Nah," Jack answers for him. "But someone has to debrief you, and Ianto needs his sleep."

"Debrief?" Andy murmurs, like it's ridiculous, which Ianto knows it is.

"Let him take care of you. In this too," he says, finally finding his voice in an effort to make all of them seem just a little bit less absurd.

"All right," Andy says, and sits up, but it's practically a question.

"Be nice," Ianto says, when Jack leans over to kiss him. He hopes the other man understands he means it as code for 'don't retcon Andy.'

"I'm always nice."

"No. You're not."

"Go to sleep."

"You coming back to join me?" Ianto murmurs. Sometimes, Jack still leaves in the night, and Ianto knows he's a bit cruel, to so prefer the usually restless man to say, but it's not a desire he's inclined to lose.

"Both of us, hopefully," Jack says, low in his ear.

Andy clears his throat, and Jack snorts. "Right, kitchen," he says, heedless as ever of his nudity.

"Andy. My robe's on the back of the door, if you want," Ianto calls softly, glad to let Jack do the dirty work, glad to drag the blankets back up onto the bed and glad to fall asleep with swollen lips.

Come morning, he knows Jack will probably have to talk him down too. But he doesn't care. Not really. He knows exactly how that works and knows he will gladly live the whole of the rest of his life in over his head, just so he can have Jack tell him that he's good, that he's fine and that everything, absolutely everything, is going to be one very special flavour of all right.


End file.
